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Sometimes things get bad

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Hi love,

Do you ever just have a moment where things get bad? Like, really, really bad? And you’re not even sure where it came from, because things seemed to be going so well up until some sort of point. A point where something small pricks your balloon, a balloon that you worked so hard to fill, yet is so fragile and exposed to the elements of all that can come to poke a hole in it. And all it takes is one small poke, and suddenly, you’re deflated, or you completely pop, and then you’ve got to figure out how to patch that balloon and how to fill it up again. And it’s so much work, wondering when the next poke is going to come along. It’s so hard, looking at all those patches and wondering why you don’t just give up.

Sometimes things get bad out of the blue. You honestly believe that everything is fine, and then, pop, you’re hanging on the edge of that cliff by your fingernails, wanting nothing more than to fling yourself off and be done with it all. Because it’s just so hard believing you’ve come through the worst of it, and then something small sets you off. It leaves you wondering what is wrong with you, and why you can’t just be a normal person who isn’t so easily decimated by the smallest things.

We forget that our balloons are so fragile because of the extent of the damage that they have had to face. It’s not fair to expect anything more from something that has taken so hard of a beating.

When things got bad for me yesterday, I wasn’t sure I was going to make it. I was so close to trying to end it all, again, because I’m just so sick of being me. I’m sick of all the things that make me feel lonely and useless and afraid. I’m sick of wondering when things will get better, or what I even want out of life. I’m sick of being the crazy one, always doing something weird and outlandish, always trying to keep my head above water and keep those close to me close without smothering them to death. Being me is a fulltime job, and I just want a break, but I can’t have a break, because that would be the end of it all. But if I could just take a break from being me, just for a moment when things get bad, the rest would do me so much good. Oh, the things I could do if only I could find rest in between. The power I could have if I could have power over my own mind in that place that is so close to death yet not close enough. If only the nightmares wouldn’t come, what could I do then? What places could I go? What heights could I reach?

If only I could handle it like a normal person when things get bad. If only it wasn’t just one more opportunity to mess up and do something drastic that I later regret so deeply I could claw out my own brain. It’s the regret that gets me every time. It’s the regret that makes things bad. If only I could learn to forgive and let go, maybe then I could be at peace.

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